


A Thief in the Night

by Sarahtoo



Series: Phrack Fucking Friday [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Phrack Fucking Fridays, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prequel to the +1 in my 5+1 The Female Gaze - in that story, Jack says "You picked my lock again," to Phryne. Here's the first time. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thief in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> I have to say, I super love this whole Phrack Fucking Friday thing - thank you Fire_Sign and PromisesArePieCrust for coming up with this idea!

Phryne licked her lips and blinked, trying to clear her eyes. It shouldn’t be this hard to pick a lock, even a lock on a police inspector’s door. She blew the drooping feather of her fascinator out of her eyes—a short, sharp gust—and tried again, her pearl-handled lockpick carefully navigating the tumblers. When she heard the soft _click_ of the lock disengaging, she smiled gleefully.

Wouldn’t Jack be surprised to see her? She’d been out dancing and drinking, and she’d had multiple offers of bed partners for the night, but none of them seemed quite right. They’d been tall, each of them, with broad shoulders and thick dark hair, but none spoke to her with sardonic wit, or called her “Miss Fisher” in quite that way, or held her eyes with a world full of wanting and uncertainty in his. None of them had been Jack. Since she’d returned from London, Jack had been distant—hesitant, as if he didn’t realize that she wanted him.

“Well, it’s time for him to know the froof—troof—truth.” She muttered, smothering a laugh at her own wit. She whispered “truth” as she opened his door, then closed and locked it again behind her, staying on her tiptoes to keep her heels from clicking on the floor.

Once inside, she laid her purse on the floor, removed her shoes, and stood unsteadily to peel down her stockings as well— _Don’ wanna ruin ‘em, walking around_. She dropped her stockings over top of her shoes and reached up to undo her fascinator as well. The feather dipped into her mouth and she blew out again to clear it. With fumbling fingers, she managed to get the comb out of her hair; she gave it a narrow-eyed glare for its obstinacy as she dropped it on top of her other things and smoothed her hair away from her face.

With exaggerated poise, she moved down the hallway, her fingers busily unfastening the hooks at the sides of her gown. She could hear the muted clatter of the beadwork as she moved; stopping for a moment halfway down the hall, she bent her head to see the last few hooks. She crossed her arms over her waist, preparing to pull the dress over her head, and took a deep breath; freezing, she breathed in again— _oh, it smelled like Jack in here, musky and spicy and delicious_ —Phryne closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Detective Inspector Jack Robinson. She could detect the subtle perfume of a library full of books overlaid by something that had likely been his dinner, and over the top of all of it was his scent of shaving cream and pomade and something that was just _Jack_.

Letting out a happy sigh, she pulled her dress over her head, dropping it carelessly to the carpet runner as she made her way toward his bedroom on silent feet. With the dress gone, she wore only her camisole and knickers—oh, and her garter belt. She stopped again and unfastened that, dropping it beside the closed door to his bedroom. With soft motions, she turned the knob, doing her best to keep silent. As the door swung open on quiet hinges, she strained her eyes to see him in the dark.

His bed was situated below the room’s single window; the curtains were open, and the moonlight lay in silver beams across the coverlet and the man who lay sleeping beneath it.

“Jack.” His name was no more than a breath of sound, and she stood still for a moment, just looking at him.

In sleep, his hair had escaped from the confines of his pomade to curl over his forehead and around his ears; he wore no pajama top, and the smooth roundness of his shoulder and arm lay atop the doona, his bicep lightly flexed with the bending of his elbow. His cheekbones were delineated by moonlight, the line of his jaw sharper even than she’d imagined, and the curve of his eyelashes atop his cheeks made an almost unbearable tenderness rise within her.

She took a step toward him and paused. _You should wash her face before bedtime to keep your skin clear._ Hardly questioning the tiny voice in the back of her head, which sounded a lot like her mother, Phryne stepped back and turned to use Jack’s bathroom. It was the work of only a few moments to wipe off her lipstick and her eye makeup; leaving the damp washcloth draped over the sink, she moved back to the hallway to look at Jack in the moonlight again.

He’d moved, rolling onto his back, one hand laying quiescent on his belly, the other flung outward as if inviting her to rest her head on it. She could see his legs outlined beneath the covers, his feet poking up at the bottom of the bed. Smiling at the sight of him, she made her way into the room, rounding the bed to take him up on that wide-open arm. Quietly, she lifted the covers and slid beneath them, resting her head on the warmth of his bicep. With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes, breathing him in as she succumbed to sleep.

*****

Jack woke slowly. He didn’t want to open his eyes—he was sure that the whiskey he’d imbibed the night before would be taking its revenge by making his head hurt, and he’d been having the most amazing dream. In his dream, Phryne was curled up beside him, one hand cupped under his bicep, the other resting on his stomach, her head nestled into his chest. He smiled slightly, realizing that he could still smell her, still feel her—the dream had been particularly vivid.

Shifting, he made to roll over and froze—there was a weight on his chest that should not be there, and when he moved, it made a sound rather like an annoyed cat. Levering his eyelids open, he lifted his head and looked. Frowning, he rubbed his eyes and looked again, wondering whether he could still be dreaming, but when he reached out to smooth the black hair attached to the head nestled on his chest, his hand encountered smooth, silky locks, and the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher huffed a sigh against his skin.

“Miss Fisher?” At first, it was barely a whisper. How was she here? When did she get here? “Phryne?” His voice was louder this time, and he laid his hand on her shoulder— _oh, her skin is really soft_ —his fingers stroking her bare skin in soft circles.

“Mmmph,” she said eloquently, scooting closer and pressing her body against his, her hand on his belly shifting downward to the edge of his pajamas.

“Phryne, what are you doing here?” Pitching his voice to be heard this time, he grasped her shoulder and shook her lightly, hoping that it would wake her.

“’S early, Jack,” she muttered. “G’back to sleep.”

“But… but Phryne, how? What? When did you get here?” Stroking her hair away from her face, he looked at her. Her eyes were determinedly shut, and she’d pushed her lower lip out in a rather adorable pout.

“You were sleeping,” she explained, her eyes still shut. “Didn’ wanna wake you.”

“Did you pick the lock on my door, Phryne?” He felt the smile tilting at his mouth.

“Well, I didn’ have a key, so what’s a girl t’do?” Her hand on his stomach smoothed over to grasp his waist and she curled more fully into him, drawing a smooth, warm leg up and over his.

“Let me get this straight,” Jack said, fighting a laugh. “You were out drinking last night—”

“An’ dancing, Jack, to the jaaazzzz muusic,” she mumbled.

“Right,” he fought the chuckles, “and dancing, and when you were finished, you came here? Why didn’t you go home?”

She shifted against him, yawning. “I wan’ed someone t’sleep with, but nobody was my Jack. So. If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad…” she chuckled a little and clutched him closer.

Jack closed his arms around her, dropping his head to press his face into her hair. She’d come to him rather than going home with—or taking home—some other man. The feeling that gave him was indescribable. _She said “My Jack.”_

“Phryne…” he whispered, turning toward her. “Phryne, wake up.”

“Nooooo…” she said softly. “Don’ wanna.”

“Please Phryne.” His voice was soft and urgent as he stroked her hair away from her face. He dropped a soft kiss on her lips as they came into view. “Please wake up.”

“Mmmm,” she smiled a little and stretched to kiss him again, her lips clinging softly to his. Opening her eyes, her smile faltered a little, as if she hadn’t been sure that this was real.

“Oh god, Jack,” she whispered, her eyes rising to meet his, awareness widening them. She glanced down to see their intertwined bodies. “I’m not sure… I didn’t mean…”

With a growl, Jack kissed her, his mouth opening avidly on hers, his tongue darting in to taste her. Phryne kissed him back, her hand on his waist twining around to grip the muscles of his back, her other hand sliding into his hair to hold him close as he ravished her mouth. Arching against him, Phryne moaned; Jack’s hand on her back moved to cup her bottom, pulling her against his hardening length.

Rolling toward him, Phryne pushed him flat on the bed, spreading herself over him, her knees dropping to either side of his hips so that she could feel him pushing up against her.

“Phryne,” he said, his hands on her hips kneading gently. “Phryne, look at me a minute.” He could feel her heat pressing against him through her drawers and his pajamas, and he knew that soon he’d be incapable of stopping. He needed to know that she knew what they were doing.

She raised her head and looked at him. He swallowed hard—her eyes were half-open and her lips were swollen slightly from his kisses. She was rolling her hips against him, and he thought he might explode at any moment.

“Phryne, is this what you want?” He could hear the aching need in his own voice; half of him hoped she heard it too, and the other half hoped she couldn’t tell just how much he wanted her—how much he’d been wanting her for what seemed like forever.

“Jack,” she said, blinking. Her tone was mildly sarcastic. “I broke into your house, apparently thinking that all you needed to want me was to wake up with me in your bed.” Stilling her hips, she met his eyes, all seriousness now. “This is what I want, definitely. Is it what you want? I suppose I thought you’d changed your mind.”

Jack shook his head. “Never.”

*****

“Never?” Phryne could feel the smile stretching her lips. She wondered if it looked as relieved as she felt.

“Never,” he said again, his tone absolute. “And all I need to want you is to think about you.” He raised a hand to cup her cheek, letting his thumb play over her lips. “To smell your perfume,” he raised himself up on one elbow, burying his nose in her neck to inhale deeply as she arched to give him better access. “To have you walk into the room, or take my arm, or straighten my tie…”

“You’re not wearing a tie, Jack,” she murmured, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm.

“You’re straightening something, nonetheless,” he responded, and she laughed, rolling her hips gently against his hardness.

Jack trailed his lips down her neck and Phryne moaned softly. _Finally, they were here, together, and Jack was—oh!_ His lips closed around her nipple through the silk of her chemise and Phryne gasped, one hand flying up to cup the back of his head. He stroked the hand on her cheek down to cup her other breast, plumping it softly, then rubbing his palm against the hardened tip as he continued to kiss and lick the opposite side.

“Oh god, Jack,” she whispered, and he changed positions so that he could switch sides with both hand and mouth. Phryne whimpered, pushing her hips downward to maximize the pressure of his cock against her clit. Her knickers were wet and getting wetter as he continued his work against her breast.

Sitting up slightly, Phryne pulled away, but only so that she could strip her camisole off over her head and lean back toward him, her chest bare. Jack took the hint, licking her naked nipple into his mouth and suckling, his eyes closing halfway in pleasure. Tightening his abdominal muscles, he sat up, pushing Phryne to an upright position; he switched breasts, covering her other side with kisses as his hands went to her ass to urge her to move against him. The breath sobbed in her chest as she rocked against his hard length, she pressed and released strongly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth as he closed his teeth gently around her nipple.

“Jack!” His name was a plea that turned into a chant and then a wail as orgasm swept over Phryne, her back arching against his mouth, her thighs shaking around his hips. Panting, she collapsed against him, her head nestling in the crook of his neck, her arms winding around his shoulders. Jack’s hands swept up and down her naked back and he pressed kisses to her shoulder as he held her, letting the shockwaves dissipate.

When she lifted her head and kissed him, his mouth was tender on hers; Phryne could feel tears prickling at the back of her eyes. With a slightly wet laugh, she lifted her head.

“Jack, you are a marvel.” Her hands stroked down his chest as she inched backward. Kissing him again—she couldn’t seem to get enough of his kisses—she pulled the drawstring on his pajama pants and slid her hands inside.

Jack planted a hand on the mattress behind him, letting her explore. He caught his breath as she ran her hands over his length, and Phryne licked her lips. His cock was long and thick, and she grasped it around the head, pumping firmly; Jack groaned, his eyes fluttering closed and his head falling backward as she touched him. Phryne slid backward farther, running one hand down between his legs to cup his scrotum, the other manipulating his dick to expose the slick head.

On an in-drawn breath, Phryne dipped her head and took him into her mouth; Jack shouted her name, his head coming up in shock, one hand rising to tunnel into her hair. She pushed down, taking his shaft as far into her mouth as she could manage, her eyes fluttering closed. _He tastes so good, as good as he smells._ Here was the spice and the musk and the man-flavor that was Jack, concentrated so that it flooded her mouth with its richness.

“God, Phryne,” Jack’s voice was hoarse, and she felt him fighting to keep his hips still as she bobbed her head, sliding her lips and tongue along his length. “Phryne…”

She glanced up his body to see his head falling backward again; she redoubled her efforts, getting him slick with spit so that she could speed up the movements of her head. Her hand between his legs stroked, open-palmed, against his balls, her fingertips lightly pressing against the strip of skin behind them. Jack’s hand in her hair tightened, gripping hard, and she moved up to wrap her lips around the head of his cock, sucking softly; hardening the tip of her tongue, she fluttered it against a spot on the underside just below his crown that looked like a seam.

With a shout, Jack came, his hips bucking and his hand in her hair pulling as his arm muscles tightened. Phryne drank him down, loving the feel of his seminal fluid jetting against her throat and the briny-sweet taste of it on her tongue. When he’d stopped jerking and she could feel the softening of his cock against her lips, she released him, licking him clean before she crawled up his body to stretch out on top of him.

When she reached his chest, Jack lifted his head and pulled her up to his lips, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to taste himself in her kiss.

“Phryne,” he whispered as their lips parted. That single word held a dozen feelings—wonder and joy and tenderness at the forefront.

She laid her forehead against his. “Jack.” She said his name in a way that meant “of course”—of course she was here, of course she wanted him, of course they’d be together. He wrapped his arms around her, bringing their lips back together, small sips taken between whispers.

*****

“Stay,” he said, his hands sweeping up and down her naked back, then inside the waistband of the knickers she still wore.

She nodded, kissing him again, but when she broke the kiss, she slid away, off the bed.

“Where are you going?” He propped himself up on one elbow, watching her as she shimmied out of her knickers to stand gloriously nude beside his bed. _Phryne Fisher was standing naked beside his bed_. He could feel his cock hardening again already as he looked at her; she stood with her back straight, her rose-tipped breasts curving gently upward, and the dark thatch of her pubic hair a stark contrast to the paleness of her skin. Jack was certain that his face was telegraphing his amazement at her presence—he’d hoped she wanted him, but he hadn’t been certain. That lack of surety had held him back, but he’d never meant to give her any reason to doubt that he wanted her.

“I need something from my purse, Jack,” she said quietly, flashing a smile at him as she walked out his bedroom door.

He heard her chuckling as she moved toward the front of his house, then back to the bedroom; glancing down at himself, he quickly shucked his pajama bottoms—he hoped what had just happened between them was only the appetizer in what would be a neverending feast. When she reappeared, she carried her purse, and she had what he thought might be a dress draped over one arm and a garter belt and stockings clasped in one hand.

“Apparently, I was rather ready to be free when I arrived last night,” she grinned at him, raising the dress and underthings. “I found these in the hall.”

He snorted, and she shook her head, amused at herself. She draped her clothing over the seat of the chair in the corner of his room before digging in her purse. With a soft “aha!” she held a small clamshell-shaped Bakelite case aloft, dropping her purse carelessly atop her dress.

She came over to the bed to press a heated kiss on Jack’s mouth, her empty hand cupping his jaw and her tongue sliding wetly between his lips. He raised his hand to the back of her head, holding her close as he kissed her back, his eyes fluttering shut at the taste of her kiss. When he tried to tug her back into bed, however, she pulled away.

“Family planning, Jack,” she said, her voice rough with arousal. “Be right back.” She kissed him once more, a quick, hard press of her lips; straightening, she stroked her hand down his chest as she moved away, the tips of her fingers leaving his skin almost reluctantly.

Jack watched her walk into the bathroom, marveling at the way her hips swayed with each step. When she paused at the doorway to the bath and looked back at him, her eyebrows raised and laughter in her eyes, he clutched his chest dramatically and let himself fall back on the bed, his eyes closed. He heard her laugh and let his lips curve into what was likely a rather silly smile.

Waiting for her return, he looked over at his bedside clock—it was early yet, and though it was his day off and he’d intended to do some work in the garden, he was happy to put that off, given the alternative at hand. He spared a moment of thought for the contents of his icebox—he thought he had enough eggs and bread to provide her with a filling, if simple, breakfast when their stomachs demanded it. They’d need to keep up their strength.

Movement at the bathroom door caught his eye, and he sat up, looking again at Phryne. Her skin was luminous in the morning light, its pale alabaster contrasted by her night-dark hair and its smoothness highlighting the delicate tracery of muscles in her arms and belly as she moved toward him. Stopping beside the bed on the side away from him, she met his eyes; he blinked slowly, once, then reached out to pull back the sheet and blanket in invitation.

A smile lifting the corners of her unpainted mouth, Phryne slid beneath the covers and pressed herself to Jack.

“Now,” she breathed, her mouth close to his, “where were we?”

“Ah.” Snaking an arm around her waist, he pulled her up to lie atop his chest; she let out a laughing squeal at his manhandling. “I think you were right about here.”

One hand flattened between her shoulder blades and the other cupping her buttock, he pressed his mouth to hers, tenderly, feeling her body melt against his. This time, he was acutely conscious of the heat of her skin against his hardened cock; the silk of her knickers had been delightful, but this was better.

*****

With a sigh, Phryne kissed him back, her mouth opening over his as she wrapped her arms around his head, her fingers stroking his hair.

His mouth never leaving hers, Jack rolled, covering her body with his; she let her legs fall open so they came to rest with his hips wedged between her thighs. She bent her knees, wrapping her legs around his waist and angling her pelvis so that his cock nestled warmly against her.

Phryne reveled in the feeling of Jack’s weight pressing her into the mattress. His mouth was warm, his flavor indescribably delicious as her tongue duelled with his. He pressed his elbows into the mattress to either side of her head, his hard length rocking against her rapidly dampening folds. Phryne pulled her hands around his shoulders to spread them wide on his back, stroking his smooth skin before reaching down to grasp his rounded buttocks. She tilted her hips so that the small pulsing movements he’d begun against her were harder and more prolonged, pressing him against her clitoris with each motion.

 _This feels so good._ She gasped as he moved his mouth from hers to her neck, nibbling along the tendon that ran from her ear to her collarbone. _He feels so good._

“Jack,” she moaned as his lips traced her shoulder. “Jack…”

“I want you, Phryne,” he whispered against the hollow of her throat as he trailed kisses to the other side of her neck.

“Oh god, come inside me,” she murmured against his ear. She sipped at his earlobe, feeling him shudder against her. “Please Jack.” Her words seemed to ripple down his body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Lifting his head, he held her eyes as he tilted his body up and slid one palm down her torso, stroking from her shoulder down and over her breast, his big hand splayed across her stomach and then down to the warm, wet juncture of her thighs. She whimpered as his fingers burrowed into her heat, circling her clit and then past it to dip inside her body to feel the slickness of her arousal. She arched into him as he pressed two fingers inside her once, twice, three times before withdrawing them.

Jack bowed his back slightly, his eyes still on hers, as he moved his cock into position, notching its broad head at the entrance to her body. Holding just his head inside her—Phryne’s neck arched involuntarily, his name escaping her lips on a note of need—he propped himself onto his elbows again. He pushed slowly, watching her face as he slid himself deeply within her body.

When he had seated himself inside her body, she could feel the slight scratchiness of his hair against her swollen clit and the warmth of his balls against her bottom. He kissed her then, his mouth sipping at hers, his hips undulating against her; long, slow strokes of his cock echoed by deep licks of his tongue that she returned avidly, even as she rocked against him, meeting him motion for motion.

Urgency built as they stayed close together, Jack’s hips pumping against her, but finally Phryne decided that she needed to move. She pushed at him, rolling him to his back and rising up above him on her knees, her hands on his chest as she took over the rhythm of their fucking. She bit her lip, throwing her head back as she forcefully rode him, sliding up his length until only his head was within her again and then grinding her clit against his pelvis with every downstroke.

Jack splayed his knees behind her, pushing to meet her thrust for thrust, and his hands covered her breasts, cupping their slight curves and rolling her nipples between his fingers. She drew in a deep breath and let it out on a shuddering sigh as she looked down at him, her hips slowing.

“Phryne,” he murmured, and she looked at him, truly looked—his lips were reddened and slightly swollen from their kisses, and there was a flush riding high on his cheekbones. His eyes were heavy-lidded, watching his hands on her breasts, and his hair stuck up atop his head from the passage of her fingers. He was beautiful to her, and she felt a warmth rising in her chest that had nothing to do with what was going on between her thighs. She flexed her fingers against him, pressing divots in the muscles of his chest.

“Jack,” she whispered, overcome for a moment by tenderness for him even as tension coiled low in her belly. “God, Jack,” she said again, speeding up against him, the slapping sounds as their flesh met ringing in the quiet room.

She felt one of his hands slide down her stomach to tangle in the hair over her mons, and then his fingers were on her clit, circling and pressing and flicking until, with a short scream, she shattered around him, her fingers digging into his pectoral muscles and her hips and thighs stiffening as the climax rocketed through her body. Jack let out a hoarse shout a moment later, and she felt the warm gush of his release deep within her.

As her muscles unlocked, Phryne melted against Jack, whose arms came around to hold her close.

“I am very glad of your tendency toward burglary, Miss Fisher,” He murmured against her hair when they both had caught their breath.

“And my apparently inebriated yen for your touch, Jack?” She nestled her head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, her body sliding off the top of his to rest on her side, still wrapped around him.

“Oh especially that,” he agreed softly. She felt him press a kiss to the crown of her head.

“I’m glad that you weren’t too scandalized by my appearance here this morning.” She was surprised to hear herself speak that sentiment, and more surprised that she meant it. He was different, in that regard, from so many people in her life.

“I think that ‘ecstatic’ describes my feelings on the matter a bit better,” he replied, his voice dry. He reached one hand down to twitch the covers over them from their tangle at the foot of the bed, then settled in beside her. “Perhaps I’ll have a key made for you.”

“Well, I’ve got the number of your lock now,” she mumbled, her limbs and her eyelids heavy as sleep overtook her. “It’ll be no trouble the next time.”

She felt Jack’s arms tighten around her for just a moment, then loosen, unwilling even in sleep to tie her down, and then his sigh as he settled down to sleep.

“Far be it from me to doubt you, Miss Fisher.”

She felt his voice rumbling in his chest against the cheek she had laid there, and she let out a happy sigh, her heart full and her body sated, before falling deeply into sleep.


End file.
